Big city

“There's something wrong, Joe,” Ingrid said with a soft voice and placed her hand over her husband's fingers as his hand lie on the small table beside his plate.
Joe Charles shook his head. “Nothing. It's nothing.”
Ingrid sighed. “I can tell there is. Joe, I can see it in your eyes. You can keep it from your words but never from your eyes. Something is bothering you. Did anything bad happen at work?”

Joe stood up and walked over the small room. He stood, facing the balcony door, looking down at the city.
“Jesus shot a woman today. Again. We were just coming down some alley when we saw a shadow passing by. Jesus called out that they should stop and identify themselves. We saw a woman, a female werewolf, stop and reach for her pocket. Before I could do anything, Jesus had drawn his gun and shot her dead.”

He told her this in a very quiet, inanimate voice. Ingrid knew such voice well. Joe suffered, but he hid it to not cause her trouble and pain. It never worked, but the silly dear still kept trying.
She moved to stand behind him. She didn't even touch him, with only their body warmths mingling.

“Why did he do it, Joe?” She knew she had to ask it because he wanted to tell. She already knew why her husband's partner did stuff. Because he was a petty vile vicious little power hungry trigger happy man whom everybody knew to abuse his position as a government agent.

“He said he thought she'd drawn for a gun. She hadn't, of course. When she fell, she was holding her license. He killed her because she was a werewolf, Ingrid. That's why.”

Ingrid rested her head against his shoulder. Neither of them moved.

“Joe, I... I've been thinking. I think you should quit the job. Joe, listen. It's not for you. It's not how you believed it to be. And now... now that I am with our child... we should move away. You could get another job. Anything. You're so bright. Just find a job that does not involve killing and men like Jesus. Joe, I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of this job. The city is mad at him and scared of him, and when they take their vengeance, he will share it with you and nobody will listen to your heart. Joe, let's just go away from M106.”

She could feel his muscles tense. She already knew she had lost. Her husband could be very tender and loving, but he was also a man of principles and... and illusions that he could make a difference in this accursed city.

“I'm sorry,” Joe said with the same small voice he'd used when telling her about the killing. “I cannot do this. Ingrid, you must understand. If I leave this job... If others think like this and just leave, then soon there will be naught but men like Jesus in the ranks of agents. If I give in and stop trying then... I will have failed and the field is clear for men like my partner. If I stick around with him then I can at least try and hold him back from doing all he would please.”

“I... understand,” she whispered. She wasn't going to tell him that he'd been by Jesus' side when they'd met the werewolf and she had still been shot down. It wasn't Joe's fault, she knew he must have tried.

“I'm sorry,” Joe repeated, turned around and brushed fingers over her cheek. He had such a beautiful eyes – round and brown and boyish. Always more a teenager than a man, that was her Joe. “Say... I'll try and ask for a vacation, and when I get one, we'll go someplace nice.”

She nodded agreeably. She wouldn't ask for some faraway trip or sea cruise. She knew he would stay in the vicinity of M106, “just in case something happened, you know, I have to be in range, Ingrid.” Of course she knew. She'd married him and now was carrying his child. A healthy tiny girl, the doctors said. It was wonderful. If only she wouldn't have had to stare at the big clock each night and wonder if he was truly late because of a traffic jam, filing in some report or lay dead in the gutter, throat slashed by some rookie that hated government agents because there were men like Jesus Barrera.

Joe's cell phone rang.
“I... I'll see who it is. I won't go. I'm off duty tonight, really.”
She knew he'd go, because it was important, because they never called him when it wasn't. It wasn't him lying to her, it was just the man he was, and Ingrid loved that man.

Joe picked up the phone.
“Joe Charles.”
It was his boss, Hobert Holcomb.
“Hey there, Joe. Look, man, we've got a serious issue here. Senator Reuben Lowe's wife has been murdered. Yeah, that's right. Poor thing was found nailed to the ceiling of their bedroom, raped and drained of blood. We've got orders from M to investigate this immediately.”
Joe bit into his lip. Ingrid a dozen steps away from him, but she was watching him closely. It must have been serious, bad news. She knew every tiny gesture Joe used and when he used them.

Joe nodded to the phone. He looked sad and resigned.
“I'll come.”
“Right away, Joe. I've got one bloke already telling me he'd be there in an hour.”
That particular bloke must have been Jesus, of course, since the man also had a night off and was probably whoring and drinking in some luxurious brothel.
“Yes, sir. I'll be there right away.”
“Seeya.” Captain Holcomb hung up.
Joe looked absently at the tiny phone before he locked it. Then he sighed.

“I've got to go, Ingrid, I'm...”
“I know. It's important. Really. It's OK.”
And once again she'd be alone, waiting for his return, or that terrible phone call from the station, with Captain Hobert Holcomb offering his condolences.
“It is important, Ingrid.”
She nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Yes, I know it is. It's all right, really. Go. They're waiting for you. I'll be alright.”
She offered her lips for a kiss and he took them. He was so warm and gentle, so passionate. He loved her utmost, she could feel it every time he looked at her or touched her.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much, Joe.”
He kissed the curve of her neck.
“I love you. I love you so much, Ingrid.”

**

Chance Manning walked in just the moment Paige was naked on the massage table, with Hiram rubbing scented oils unto her back. Paige smirked. She could imagine Chance had not come without carefully choosing the time. Nothing was so urgent it couldn't have waited a half of hour, but then again, Chance loved looking at his pets. He also loved looking at Paige, the only woman who'd ever stood up to him and actually threatened that if he laid a hand on her where and when she didn't like it, they'd have to bury him in a closed box, and a relatively small one, as well.

Chance had chosen to keep her, since she was his best fighter, and limit his desire for her to fondling. It was a difficult game to play, though. Paige knew that if she actually pissed Chance off, she'd find herself on the streets, and then she'd either have to run back to daddy, or choose amongst the jobs that other city werewolves could take – empty the trash bins and sort that shit, scrub the floors of some factory or skyscraper, but only at night, because no decent human would have allowed a werewolf employee to be seen by their costumers, spread legs in a brothel for the smallest fee, because werewolves were the lowest of the lowest...
She had a good life here, and as long as she could be the best, she could keep her pretty room the size of a luxurious flat, eat good healthy meals, use the gym, swim in the pool, relax in bubble bath or in Hiram's gentle muscular hands. Hiram was a gay, so he was just a buddy to all the girls – the reason why Chance kept him.

“Hello there, Paige,” Chance said and waved. Of course she wouldn't see the movement, but she could hear it. Oh, Chance could be very familiar.
“Hello to you, too, Mr. Manning,” Paige replied.
“Good day to you, Mr. Manning,” Hiram greeted while his hands continued to work on Paige's back.
“Yes, yes,” Chance replied rather impatiently. “Gimme that oil, boy.”
Hiram was older than Chance, but he would still call him “boy” and say that no man who put his cock up another man's ass would ever be anything else.
“Mind if I take it over from Hiram a little, darling,” Chance asked Paige with a voice oilier than the liquid inside the small bottle in his hand.
Of course she did, but she was wise enough not to tell him that. She had to bear with those hands and listen what he had to say. There must have been something special, because usually he only came down to her after the matches to congratulate her and steal a public kiss or two when he knew she couldn't refuse out of politeness and publicity.
“No,” she replied coolly. “Go ahead.”
Hiram retreated politely.
Chance really wasn't trying to give her any massage or even rub the oil on her as Hiram was supposed, to make her muscles flexible and skin shiny for the upcoming arena. Instead he ran his hand over her buttocks and pinched her once and twice. She swallowed and smiled through the hole in the pillow at the polished floor. How very pathetic the man was, and how very dangerous.

“Still the best, huh? Are you, Paige?”
Now, why would he ask her that? It wasn't like him. She had been the Wolf Princess, the unbeatable fighter for two years now through weekly arenas and not once had anybody beat her. Rarely some had come close, but she had still killed them.

“Why do you ask,” she wondered. Perhaps he'd tell her. Perhaps he'd simply carry on the game he'd come here for.
“Just...wondering,” Chance mused and let his fingers slide between the cheeks towards the soft end of her outer lips. He loved to feel her hair... fur... even there. It was thicker and fuller than any of the regular women.

“Don't,” Paige said firmly. “We've talked about this. I'm not your whore.”
Chance chuckled. “Of course you aren't. You're my princess.” He kissed her ass and licked over the tiny entrance. Oh how he yearned for it, and for her, as she lie there like this, relaxed, but after the fight he was crazy for her. He'd seen how she came off the arena – her eyes golden, breasts heaving with nipples full and round, a mane of brown hair cascading down her back to meet with the lovely crack of her ass, her body heavy and hot with the battle, all the tiny muscles twitching... He would dream of putting his hard cock inside her and have all of her, just shuddering and quaking around him while he'd pound into her virginal cunt, endlessly. And then, covered with her juices, and his, he would have her lie down, just like she was right now, and he'd have all the tightness of that sweet ass.
He used to jack off at such thoughts and even now his dick was swelling, but he had to wait, be patient. Very soon, perhaps, he'd be rewarded, if only he managed to lure her in.

She could smell his arousal, but she chose to ignore it.
“Yes. Princess. Of course.” She couldn't avoid some sarcasm, though. No werewolf could ever be a princess. No werewolf could ever even be treated as a human being with a relatively wide spread genetic disease. In her eyes, they were being treated far worse than vampires. At least those had their communities, but werewolves... well, yes, daddy had his pack, but it was ridiculous. They were outcasts, living in some abandoned factory, unable to come into town, cut off from anything and everything. Father had called it freedom, Paige called it voluntary imprisonment. She'd chosen her own path, and though she had to fight for her freedom and still had a limited one... well, at least she had it. And she would keep it through all the government schemes and Chance Manning's little games.

“What say you about a little game, my princess,” Chance murmured and smeared oil down the crack of her ass, just to be able to touch her there.
Exactly. A game. Whatever else could he be here for. Well, she better ask if she was going to find out what he was up to this time.

“I'm all in ears.” There was boredom in her voice, though.
How very cold, Chance cursed. No woman should be so cold with a man's fingers fondling her like this. He felt like shoving a couple of fingers inside her and see if she managed to maintain her calm even then, but he didn't. Firstly, he didn't want to piss her off yet, and secondly – well, maybe he was afraid that yes, she could do it and ignore him completely. He couldn't bear the thought.

“You see, I'd like to place a little bet on tonight's fight, darling.”
“Yes?” She was even genuinely curious. What was this about, all of a sudden? Whomever they'd put up to face her, she'd taken them all down and if the land hadn't been so damn big with mercenaries, rookies and gladiators coming or been delivered from all over the place, then she'd already been out of opponents. Since the night she had began her triumph she'd killed a man – or sometimes a woman – each week of every month of two years.

“That's right,” Chance nodded and even let go of her ass. He sat on the massage table beside her, so that she could sit up now and he could at least see her naked breasts with those dark nipples – he dreamed of biting into them – and the triangle of her golden pubic hair.
When she did, he put an arm around her and pulled her against his chest, the hot back, and now he had a hand around her, just below his breasts, feeling their solid weight.

“I have a pretty special opponent for you tonight, you see. He came all the way from M itself to fight you. The house has never been so full...”

Paige looked bored. She'd heard this before, he'd told this many times. The toughest, the most famous... she'd fought and killed them all. Fame didn't fight, determination did. And she had it.

“Get to the point, please.”
He'd wipe that little arrogant smile off her face soon enough. He was fed up with looking at her and knowing that she felt superior. She wasn't. She was just a little werewolf girl. She should have scrubbed dirt. She should have sucked cocks in a whorehouse. He'd given her all this and now he wanted to have something in return. Yes, he had other lovers, but they paled in comparison. There was but one Wolf Princess and he would have her!

“I'm offering you a bet – if you win tonight, you can ask me just about anything money can buy. Or maybe have that vacation you've longed for. Of course, the crowd would grieve if I gave you a free month, but they'd survive and come back hungrier than ever.”

Well, that sounded relatively good, Paige found, but there must have been a “but” somewhere. What did he want of her? And why was he placing such a bet? Her opponent must have been good, then, really good. Well, she was up to a good fight. It had been quite boring lately, with little to no worthy opponents.

“And if I lose,” she smirked.
So far, she hadn't, and she didn't really feel like beginning with it tonight.

“Then I'll lose a great deal of money,” Chance shrugged. “And... I get to fuck you.” Now, he had said it. Would she take it, in her blissful ignorance about who had come down to M106. He wasn't in the building, yet, or she might have sensed him and got all suspicious.

Paige laughed out loud. “That is ridiculous, Mister Manning.”
“Are you afraid, Paige? Is the infamous Wolf Princess afraid of a little bet?”

Afraid?
Paige hissed. She knew no fear. Fear was for the weak, and the weak were trod on and they died. She wasn't weak.

He knew he had her now. Her stupid pride had really drawn her in. Oh, and her ignorance. She must have thought there was no worthy opponent left. But there was and one they'd never had before on the arena. That would get really, really interesting, and by what he'd seen and heard of the dude... Paige Sheppard, her princess, would get a big mouthful of the bitter taste of loss tonight. Of course, special arrangements had been made – after all, he had to make sure he wouldn't lose his precious princess, so the fight would last only until one of the fighters couldn't get up any more, but it was sufficient for the blood thirsty audience. There would be lot of blood, and there would be a lot of screwing the Wolf Princess for Chance. He'd lose some money, of course, but he'd make her pay him off with her body, and after such loss she'd be subservient, with much pride and invincibility ripped off her.

Paige smirked. “I'm not afraid. I just think it is ridiculous. But very well – I'll take your bet, and when I win, you'll give me that vacation and you won't come to see me until it's over.”

Gosh, how very arrogant she was, Chance mused. Didn't even say if, but when. Tonight you'll sing a different song, darling, and you'll be howling and yelping like a bitch in heat. Which is what you are, whether you want it or not.

“Deal,” he nodded. “See you soon.”
“Yeah,” she replied and lie back on the massage table. “Hiram, let's carry on, we're running late.”
Chance left and Hiram continued with the massage. He knew no more than Paige, so they were both blissfully ignorant. But Chance could go to his apartment and jack off. After tonight he'd no longer have to do this. He imagined those resentful lips around his cock, sucking, while he pushed deeper, all the panting hotness around his flesh and then shooting his seed down her throat while her lips would touch his pubic hair.

“Deal,” he whispered to himself, and he laughed.